Undisclosed Desires
by apassionata.otto
Summary: AU. Inspired by Carriers and 28 days later. Earth is now a quarantined planet. The cause? A deadly virus known as the R2259, a hazardous weapon used by Romulans decades ago. Details inside.


**Title:** Undisclosed Desires 1/?  
**Rating:** PG-13, eventual NC-17.  
**Universe:** Reboot.  
**Characters:** James T. Kirk, Spock, Leonard McCoy and Nyota Uhura.  
**Warnings:** Alternate Reality, slightly OOC, slash, angst.  
**Words: **743.  
**Summary:** Inspired by Carriers and 28 days later. Earth is now a quarantined planet. The cause? A deadly virus known as the R2259, a hazardous weapon used by Romulans decades ago. Kirk is a survivor being hunted down for his healing abilities. Desperate to find a cure to his mother, Spock founds Kirk and asks him for help.  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, unfortunately.

**A/N:** In this universe, Jim Kirk never went to the Academy. Therefore, he never became the USS Enterprise Captain. This is my first attempt to write a fanfiction in English. Thanks to my awesome beta **cozibizzle** ! And **punk4life1315** for helping me with this chapter.

Also, thanks to my beloved friends Olivia and Helena, for the support. And for listening every time I had a crazy idea about this story (I mean it). I love you, guys!

-x-

Nostalgia isn't the absence of something, but rather the after thoughts of having such things taken away from you. I miss the heat. I miss the sun. I miss the smell of fresh grass. I miss the sound of laughter. I even miss my brother complaining about our farm chores. Most of all, I miss them – my family. It's truly remarkable that my mind still clings onto them, that I can still remember them so vividly. Nothing will ever be the same. I've been through this hell countless years. Numbers aren't really my thing and counting after all this time seems meaningless. The trace of time is like a very smoothly drawn line and most can barely cope with it. Why is it important anyway? We have no hope for a better future. The world is broken beyond repair. _We're_ broken and tainted.

They call them "condemned", the ones who have the deadly virus which is slowly consuming the entire planet. A fucking hazardous weapon used by Romulans decades ago so they could have their revenge through terrorism. We couldn't contain it – the cure is still unknown and new projects have been abandoned hence the impossibility of a positive turn out. There are some people immune to the R2258 virus. It's a known fact they can't die from the disease... or anything at all. I'm one of those "inoculates" – hunted down by almost all people in hope for a cure. Unfortunately, I've only discovered this when they imprisoned me. Like a lab rat, I got through... I don't know how many tests. But think about the worse week of your life. Think the same again and you still won't even be close.

That's the reason I keep running, so they can't find me again. Rules are simple: stay away from crowded areas, don't be bound to anyone and especially, don't crash in the same place for more than three nights. And it has worked for me so far, this nomad sort of life. Of course, it's neither ideal nor healthy but hey... when you can't die, what is to be considered bad habits? Smoking? Drinking? Insomnia? Being a hypochondriac? Fuck all that. I don't care one bit – and even if I cared, things wouldn't change because dying is a luxury I'd love to have. Being shot, falling off a cliff, drowning, suffocating, overdose. Nothing works for me. Sometimes I can't even feel human and this turmoil overwhelms me in ways I can't deal with. It's too much to conceive.

The radio keeps playing old songs as if we were to remember those times when war meant something different – and in some twisted way, people stood together to comfort each other. Of all things, comfort is not what people have to offer. Instead, doubt and anger became what a human being could relate to. I'm not saying the world was perfect back then, that'd be plain hypocrisy. But I believed in the Federation and of the great things we could achieve with so many ideals. We could afford to be optimistic, as I've said. My life wasn't even that good before everyone died from the disease and left me alone. It's just worse now.

Why, my life wasn't a piece of cake before the virus? I grew up with my mom looking at me with such a painful expression that I always thought it was _his_ fault. _His_ fault that my mom couldn't look at her own son and not remember about _him_. _His_ fault that she always had to leave Earth, because staying at home was always a difficult task. _His_ fault that she married Frank – an abusive man who only knew how to ask for more beer and punish me and Sam if we didn't go get it for him. Besides, sometimes I thought I deserved such punishment – my actions as a child and as a teenager were not amiable, but somewhat difficult and rebellious. People were always angry with me for some reason and I grew accustomed to their pity once they knew who my father was. "Oh, George Kirk was such a great man", they said as if one could know such thing. He was dead and that's about the most important thing I knew about him. George Kirk was a stranger to me, even if he was the one who saved my life.

And… all that's left for me is this road – empty and endless, like my own existence.


End file.
